“All right, then.” She steadied herself again. It was imperative to stay calm and controlled. It had been a long time since she’d attempted a flight. She had no tools with her to help focus her energy. And though she wished, just once, for Mia, she accepted that in this she was on her own. Struggling not to rush, she cast the circle, and in its center cleared her mind, and opened.

“I call to all who hold the power, unto me your help endower. Rise up the wind to aid my flight, open your eyes to aid my sight. My body remains, but my spirit flies free. As I will, so mote it be.”

It was like a drawing up, a tingling that flowed gently through the body. Then a lifting out of what she was from the shell that held it.

She glanced down at her own form—the Ripley who stood, head lifted, eyes closed, in the circle. Knowing the risks of lingering, of becoming too charmed by the sensation of flight, she centered her thoughts on her target. And let herself soar.

The stream of the wind, the sea beneath. There was such joy in it—and that, she knew, was a dangerous seduction. Before she could be lulled into the glorious silence and motion, she let sounds fill her head. Voices humming—the thoughts and the speech of an entire city were alive within her. Worries, joys, tempers, passions mixed together in such a wonderfully human music.

As she traveled, sliding downward, she separated them and found what she needed.

“There was no change overnight.” One nurse handed a chart to another. Their thoughts sent up a mild interference.

Complaints, fatigue, a remembered fight with a spouse, and one gnawing desire for ice cream.

“Well, he’s less trouble in a coma. Strange, though, the way he dropped just a couple of hours after that reporter left. He’d been alert, stable, responsive for days, then this complete turnaround.”

As the nurses moved down the corridor, one of them shivered slightly as Ripley passed.

“Wow. Got a chill.”

She moved through the closed door and into the room where Remington lay. Machines monitored his vital signs, cameras watched him.

Ripley hovered, studying him. Comatose, restrained, behind lock and key. What harm could he do now?

Even as she thought it, his eyes opened and grinned into hers.

She felt a stab in the heart, the pain unbelievably sharp and completely real. The power in her, around her, wavered. And she felt herself falling.

His thoughts beat at her mind. Bloody, vicious fists that spoke of vengeance, death, destruction. They pinched at her, greedy fingers that were somehow, hideously, arousing. Tempting her to surrender. And more than surrender, tempting her to take.

No. You won’t have me, or mine.

She fought back, struggling to free herself. Little wings of panic fluttered at her throat as she realized the sheer strength of what had come alive in him.

She tore free with a cry of both fury and fear.

And found herself sprawled in the circle she’d cast on the simple wood floor of the station house. Wincing in pain, she tore open her shirt and stared down in horror at the angry red welts between her br**sts.

She struggled to her feet, found the control to close the circle. She was stumbling for the first-aid kit when the door burst open.

Mia flew in the door like a whirlwind. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Instinctively Ripley drew her shirt closed. “What’re you doing here?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t know?” All but shaking with anger, Mia closed the distance between them. “I wouldn’t feel? How dare you do such a thing on your own, without proper preparation? Do you know what you risked?”

“It was my risk, and you’ve got no business spying on me.”

“You risked everything, and you know it, just as you know I wasn’t spying. You woke me out of a lovely little dream.”

Ripley angled her head, took a good look. Mia’s hair was in wild disarray, her mouth unpainted and her cheeks pale. “Now that you mention it, you didn’t take time to put on your war paint. I don’t think I’ve seen you without makeup since we were fifteen.”

“Even without it, I’ll always look better than you—particularly now. You’re bone white. Sit down. Sit—” she repeated and solved the problem by pushing Ripley into a chair.

“Mind your own business.”

“You, unfortunately, are my business. If you wanted to check on Remington, why didn’t you just look ?”

“Don’t lecture me, Mia. You know I have less luck with that area than you. Plus, I didn’t have a glass or a ball or—”

“A cup of water would do, as you’re perfectly aware. It’s foolishly dangerous to fly without a partner, someone who can call you back should it be necessary.”

“Well, it wasn’t necessary. I got back fine.”

“You could have asked me for help.” Sorrow pierced the frustration. “By the goddess, Ripley, do you hate me that much?”

Simple shock had Ripley dropping her hands, gaping. “I don’t hate you. I couldn’t—”

“What have you done to yourself?” Temper vanished as Mia saw the welts. Moving quickly, she pulled Ripley’s shirt aside. And her soul shuddered. “He did this. How is it possible? You were in the circle. He’s just a man. How could he break the protection and do this to your corporal body?”

“He’s not just a man,” Ripley said flatly. “Not anymore. There’s something in him, and it’s very strong, and very dark. Part of it’s here. There’s a man at the hotel.”

She told Mia what she knew, as she would tell Nell. They needed to be prepared.

“I need to study,” Mia said. “To think. We’ll find the answer. In the meantime, do you still have your amulet, any of your protective stones?”

“Mia—”

“Don’t be a fool, not now. Wear the amulet. Recharge it first. You have to stay away from this Harding until we know more.”

“I know that. I’m not going to let this happen, Mia. I need you to promise you won’t stop me, however it has to be done.”

“We’ll find a way. Let me tend to those burns.”

“You’ll stop me,” Ripley repeated, taking Mia’s wrist, squeezing urgently. “You’re stronger than I am, and you know just how close I am to the edge to admit that.”

“What needs to be done will be done.” Impatient, Mia pushed Ripley’s hand away. “These are painful. Let me tend to them.”